I'll Never Know

A couple of years ago I was sent to America for a week on a work trip. I was put-up in a nice hotel, one that I certainly wouldn't be able to stay in if I was paying for it myself. A spacious room, delicious food, great location (who wouldn't want to stay on Broadway?) and such a large comfortable bed that I had the best sleep I had in a long time.

One morning I woke up, walked into the shower, and lathered up. I noticed there was a bit of shit mixed in with the soapsuds after I had washed my arse. Well, when I say 'a bit of shit' I actually mean 'quite a lot of shit'. I washed thouroughly, got dressed, went to work and thought no more about it.

When I got back to the hotel I made my nightly phonecall to my girlfriend, but this time I told her about finding a substantial amount of poo on my hands after washing my arse in the shower.

"Did you at least tip the room cleaning staff?" she asked.

"What for?" I said, puzzled. "For shitting the bed, of course." she said, firmly putting me in my place. When getting showered, despite finding shit (and a fair portion, I might add) on my arse, I had not thought that I may have actually shat the bed. Horror struck me - the bed was now changed, and I will never know if I actually did shit the bed. Apologies to the maid who had the unfortunate task of changing the bed of a grown man with bowel issues.